


Zeal

by Emrysssss



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emrysssss/pseuds/Emrysssss
Summary: All along, it was perhaps just a fever.
Relationships: Atobe Keigo/Tezuka Kunimitsu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

The door slammed open.

Tezuka merely spared a glance at the man who made a dramatic entrance before turning his gaze back to the newspaper that he was holding. “I didn’t know you would be coming back today.”

“And what’s with the announcement you made this afternoon about re-entering the pro-circuit?” Atobe, the very person who nearly punched a hole in the doorframe took a wide stride forward. 

“I trust that you have heard me perfectly at the press conference.” Tezuka folded his papers and put them carefully to the side. He took off his glasses, wiped them with a piece of tissue and put them back on his face. “I am only surprised that you didn’t harass me about it the minute the conference ended.”

“I was in another conference at the time.” Atobe mussed up his hair grudgingly. “Can you imagine how it feels, hearing it from Shishido of all people? Why didn’t you discuss this with me first?”

Tezuka paused in midst of getting up from his chair. Atobe had no idea what he was trying to do though. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Tezuka sat firmly back down. Legs and arms crossed in an intimidating posture, he asked, “Why would I need to discuss this with you? I have my physician’s permission, my coach’s support and my parents’ understanding. I presume that is enough.”

Atobe looked at Tezuka in disbelief, “But I am your husband! Surely such a thing would need to go pass me first?” 

Tezuka didn’t say a word. The platinum band on his index finger shined under the bright yellow lamp hanging on the ceiling. Atobe touched his left index finger almost instinctively. There is only one person on earth who can make him feel so self-conscious just by looking at him, and that man is sitting in front of him, leaving for the pro-circuit again without even asking for his opinion first, and undermining their marriage. 

“I don’t know how you may consider this marriage deed,” He finally said, “But I think this stupid affair put on show for political purposes has to come to an end.”


	2. Chapter 2

They were married for a quiet, uneventful three years.

No one bat an eyelid when they announced their marriage nine years after Tezuka went pro, two years after Atobe took over his family business. Tezuka went to Germany as soon as high school started, leaving Seigaku and Japan firmly behind. No one could really be a challenge to him anymore, especially since Echizen went back to the States. He patiently made his way up the Junior circuit, then WTA, then Wimbledon. 

The world is astonished at the sudden appearance of this young Japanese player. He was not particularly tall, suffered from short-sightedness and responded with awkward silences to questions not related to tennis in front of the media. Though his grandfather was practically the Japanese Police Force himself, no one cared once he was Europe. The media was puzzled, unsure how to describe this taciturn, intelligent and strong player. “He is oriental—” Everyone whispered, as if that would dissolve all the doubts and mark all the waters.

The he began winning. First a game, then a set. First best sixteen, then best eight, then semi-finals—

Tezuka Kunimitsu and Atobe Keigo’s marriage was announced after he won his first bronze medal, being defeated by a Swedish player and winning against one South African dark horse. The world was already familiar with Atobe Keigo’s name by that stage, who was one of the youngest successors to Japan’s top five corporations – and suddenly no one was interested in the bronze medal that Tezuka sweated blood and tears for anymore. The press flooded them with questions in no way remotely related to tennis — “When did you first meet?” “When will the wedding be held?” “Will you be adopting children?”—Tezuka silently retreated to the back, leaving Atobe to awe the journalists with his eloquence.

In retrospect, Atobe was never quite sure about Taluka’s feelings. They met in their last year in junior high as captains of two rival teams, and somehow Atobe’s gaze never lingered for anyone else other than that lean, strong and silent figure dressed in the white and blue Seigaku uniform. 

He beat Tezuka 7-6 in Singles one, and that was when it all started. Tezuka never spared him a single glance, even after he destroyed his shoulder and possibly his future tennis career. He was not angry, not even a little bit resentful, when he had to leave for Kyushu for treatment of his shoulder. Atobe never apologised, because Tezuka never looked like he needed one. 

He only looked at those who are stronger than him, that’s when Atobe realised. That’s why he never looked at me. That’s why he’s only got eyes for the first-year prodigy Echizen Ryouma. 

They parted their ways and their paths somehow never crossed. Tezuka went pro at fifteen and Atobe threw a fist at home. He refused to go on with his studies and the perfect, elite education his parents had carefully planned for him – get straight As in the University Entrance Exam and study business and finance abroad. He didn’t want his life like that. He wanted to play tennis. He wanted to go pro. He wanted to stand by Taluka’s side or, better still, right in front of him across the net, feet on solid, hard ground. 

Tezuka won his medals and Atobe lost his war. He spent another three painful years at Hyotei High school and joined the tennis club only under pressure from his old teammates. He made Shishido Ryou captain and silently watched how he grew stronger and learned to shoulder more responsibilities. He took all the tests he needed and went to Wharton to read business. University ended and he flew back to Japan to take over his grandfather’s company.

There is only one request Atobe made when his parents started picking him a suitable wife. There is one person that I would like to ask and please do not deny me this chance. He looked at his father and said.


	3. Chapter 3

Tezuka accepted his proposal without a single word.

“Aren’t you at least a little bit worried about this arrangement?” Atobe looked at the man sitting across the table from him. Tezuka was taller than he remembered. He still wore spectacles when he was not on court, and his features grew more protruding and defined. He looked more weary and tired than on the television, but still as handsome as Atobe had always remembered him. Atobe’s heart skipped a bit when Tezuka looked up at him, and he felt his throat go dry.

Right now, they are sitting in a meeting room in a building under Atobe Directory’s Berlin branch. Atobe was surprised that Tezuka agreed to the meeting so easily. He nervously put the marriage contracts in front of them each and silently waited for Tezuka to finish reading.

“Why would I need to be worried?” Tezuka looked up at Atobe from the contract. 

“You are a pro star, after all. Surely being seen kissing a man is one thing, but marrying one is another.” Atobe was pointedly referring to another pro tennis star being caught kissing a man last month – the news splashed all on the front page of the The Mirror on the following day– and the tennis player was no other than the very famous Echizen Ryouma. 

“Atobe.” Tezuka sighed, a little resignedly, “It’s 2017. No one cares. Besides, my grandfather called me last week about this already. He said it’s a perfectly reasonable political cooperation. You need my family’s political influence and we need your business connections. Surely no bad can come out of it.”

“How did your grandfather know this?” Atobe widened his eyes, “I haven’t even told my parents about you.”

Tezuka shook his head. A smile curved onto his lips. “Atobe. They know more than we can possibly believe.” He signed his name at the bottom page of the contract quickly. “I guess this is all done.” He looked at Atobe, who had still not recovered from his astonishment. Tezuka stood up and made for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a busy schedule.”

Nothing changed much after their marriage. They lived in different parts of the world, led different lives and chased different dreams. The Atobe and Tezuka families only became more powerful after such a union was made, and if not for the platinum band that Atobe would sometimes carelessly scratch himself with, Atobe would almost forget that they had been married. 

Tezuka never expressed any feelings for him or, for that matter, anyone else. He went on with his life as if nothing stood in his way. His passion for tennis burned so strong that it almost hurt to watch him play. Tezuka never knew, but Atobe did watch and tape all his tournaments. He labelled each and put them neatly in a hidden shelf in his study in Tokyo, careful not to let Tezuka find out as if hiding a secret lovers’ letters.

Off the court, he was as intimidating as ever. Tezuka never refused any show of kindness or care from Atobe, but he never needed any either. He accompanied Atobe to all parties that he needed to go to, answered all questions from the press diligently and seamlessly, and fulfilled whatever duties the society demanded that a husband should fulfil. There was nothing Atobe could do except for watching him from afar, watching him living his life, watching him deserving his dream.

That is, until Tezuka’s arm failed him again.


	4. Chapter 4

It happened the second year after their marriage. Tezuka was in Australian Open. He defeated his opponents practically in sleep. It was all too easy. No one could defeat a Tezuka like that, especially after seeing how he beat Echizen Ryouma 3-1 in semi-finals. We could have a Japanese champion. They whispered, excitedly writing the journal even before the finals began. Tezuka Kunimitsu, he could make history.

But he didn’t. 

His shoulder betrayed him in the first set, after he exerted his all and won marginally 6-4. Atobe was in the best view seat, and his heart was in his throat. It was like all these years ago, when he first met Tezuka, under the bright summer sun in Tokyo, surrounded by his teammates wearing grey and white uniforms, and just one glance and Atobe was done for. It was like that afternoon, when Atobe forced him to choose between his shoulder and his team, and he chose Seigaku.

Atobe knew it before Tezuka collapsed onto the court. He rushed to the changing room, where Tezuka would be carried to. He refused all journalists trying to catch a glimpse of Tezuka’s broken shoulder, brushed all paparazzi aside and accompanied Tezuka to the hospital. 

“It was like ten years ago.” When the doctor asked how painful his shoulder was, Tezuka looked at Atobe and replied. The doctor’s piercing gaze made someone as strong-minded as Atobe uneasy, and that was when Atobe knew that the water was still over the bridge. 

He left after the doctor ushered Tezuka into the inspection room. He returned to his Sidney mansion and played the recording back on the screen. He required this from a certain Yanagi Renji from Rikkaidai. Somehow, after Yukimura Seiichi’s death in the first year of senior high, Rikkaidai suddenly disappeared from the Japan high school tennis circuit. They withdrew from all the inter-school games that they signed up for and no one even came to watch all the other schools compete. Hyotei won their first gold medal that year, with Mori as the captain and Atobe in singles one, but no one looked cheerful on their way back to school. They knew that they might well be facing up Rikkai and the championship would not come as easily, and Atobe had no doubt that Shitenhouji was thinking the same. 

He looked at the 14-year-old Tezuka Kunimitsu on screen. He had that stern, fierce yet passionate look at such a young age, and Atobe knew that fierceness that never came back. He himself was no different back then. It was the first time he played the famous Tezuka Kunimitsu, who dominated the junior circuit with just a name, who everyone wanted to play but so few got the chance, who he was facing across the net.

I had to beat him. He had darkly thought. I had to destroy him.

So he used his insight and saw Tezuka’s old injury on the shoulder. The injury that was caused by his upperclassmen two years ago when they were blinded by their jealousy of his talent and abilities. Atobe played every ball right to the point. He forced Tezuka to over-exert his shoulder. Come on, make a choice. He smiled. Choose between your tennis career and your team. If you use that serve, you may not lift your left shoulder anymore in the future. Come on, give in to me and forfeit. I’ll make you awed at my prowess.

No one could say that he played dirty. In fairness, he was just manipulating his insight to play to his opponent’s weak point, like any sensible sportsman would do. What he miscalculated was how far Tezuka would go to secure a round for his team. No, he didn’t forfeit. He played with all he could, and he lost both this game and his shoulder. 

Atobe hardly paid any attention to the next game after he beat Tezuka 7-6 and Tezuka was sent to the hospital. His coach gave him an appraising nod, but Atobe found himself unable to concentrate on the game Echizen and Hiyoshi were playing. His mind was occupied with Tezuka’s collapse on the court, the weary tiredness on his face and the thin line made by his lips. From that moment, he knew he’d lost.

He offered to take Tezuka to the best physician he knew in Germany and pay all expenses, but Tezuka refused with a polite nod. “It is very kind of you.” Tezuka replied, his tone devoid of hatred or resentfulness, “But I’ve already made arrangements to leave for Kyushuu. I trust that the treatment there will be sufficient.”

Atobe could say nothing more than wishing him a full recovery. He went back home, locked himself up in the giant bedroom of his and suddenly hated everything with all his heart. The giant painting of his parents hanging on the wall, the garishly bright furniture, the empty void that engulfed this whole mansion, and the cold ten centimetres between Tezuka and himself when they were standing on Tezuka’s doorstep.


	5. Chapter 5

They never talked about that match. 

Atobe only acquired the recording from Yanagi after they signed the marriage contract. He was surprised that Yanagi still kept it. When he received the post, there was only one piece of paper with neat handwriting on it, “Please don’t consider this my wedding gift.”

So Atobe said nothing. They never even held a wedding, just a small ceremony with family and a few friends who could make it. Fuji Shuusuke was the only former Seigaku player who came, as was Shishido Ryou. They were surprisingly friendly with each other, Atobe found, bewildered. Later, as he was told that Fuji worked as a freelancer photographer who sometimes sent his work to the magazine company that Shishido was working for, he was strangely jealous of their casual friendship. Why is it that they can laugh freely together and joke about each other, while my lawful husband and I are as polite and cold to each other as two pieces of floating ice?

And just like two pieces of floating ice, over the four years that they’d been married, they bumped into each other, pushed themselves apart, and continued floating on a sea of loneliness. Atobe never saw Tezuka more than what was necessary, and Tezuka him. No one knew that they were unhappy – they looked as happy as a celebrity couple could be. Maybe except for Fuji Shuusuke. But then, Fuji always knew. Nothing could possibly escape his eyes. 

Right now, sitting in front of him, Tezuka patiently waited for his response. When it was apparent that he wouldn’t get any. He stood up and made for the doors. Atobe turned suddenly and caught his wrist. He looked at Tezuka with his piercing blue eyes, and Tezuka wrenched free from his hold. Atobe took a stride backward, blocking the door, “Are you divorcing me?”

“I believe that is the best solution at the current moment. My family does not need your business connections anymore and yours does not need expand the political influence with the help of my grandfather either. We’ll tell the them that we decided to part our ways and I decided to return back to the court.”

“Are you quite out of your mind?” Atobe hissed, “The marriage thing aside, you know how your shoulder will fare against any power player. I doubt if you can even beat Sanada right now.”

“There is no need to get offensive.” Tezuka frowned.

“You know I am talking the truth.” Atobe didn’t back down. Tezuka still had a few centimetres over him, even after all these years, and Atobe had never been more frustrated with the fact. Tezuka was just standing there, their shoulders lightly brushing, and Atobe was overwhelmed with the feeling that he could never catch up to the him. Not ten years ago, not even now. He was never his, and he would never be. Atobe’s heart ached. He stops for no one, let alone me.

“Do you want to live in shoulder pain for the rest of your life even without making it to the semi-finals? Because that is what will happen. And what’s this to do with our marriage? Why do we need to part our ways for you to go pro?” Atobe finally said. 

Tezuka was so quick that Atobe did not even have time to respond before their positions were suddenly reversed. Tezuka took a stride forward, trapping Atobe between his body and the door. Under any other circumstances, this would surely make Atobe’s knees go weak, but not right now, not when they were discussing divorce, a marriage as broken as his shoulder. 

“And how can you not understand what I have suffered through all these years?” Tezuka said in a low voice, a passionate hatred sinking into every word he uttered, “It was you who ruined my shoulder all these years ago, the injury making me give up on the finals in Australian Open 2017. You who chose me as the marriage candidate, and I couldn’t say no because my grandfather was persuaded by your parents. You who, after all these years, still refused to let me in or let me go. Don’t you see, Atobe, you only trapped me in this marriage because you wanted me to fulfil your dreams as you could not go pro yourself. Because you wished to atone for what you did ten years ago when we were both in junior high. Because you are living your dreams and desires through me. Admit it, Atobe, there is no love between the two of us, not anymore. Just let me go. I’m tired of this.”

Astonished, Atobe didn’t even fight when Tezuka pushed him aside and went out of the door.


	6. Chapter 6

The divorce contract came two months after. Tezuka did not come in person this time, so Atobe silently signed his name and asked his secretary to return the papers back to the sender. He didn’t even read through the contract, for he knew that there was no way Tezuka could raise any inappropriate demand of him. Or it is because that he partly wished Tezuka to do exactly that, so he could make up for, as little as he can, the ten years that he deprived of him.

Their divorce made another news frontpage, but Atobe did not care in the least. He received a stern talking-to from his parents, but he did not defend himself at all. “I lost him.” He simply said, when his mother made a disapproving thinning of her lips and his father refused to look at him, his back to the son that he was so proud of. 

It surprised him that, somehow, Fuji was the first person to contact him after the divorce. He agreed to meet with Fuji at a conference room in the Atobe branch in London. Somehow, he was a little intimidated by this former teammate of his ex-husband. They never exchanged any words after the U-17 camp held when they were fourteen.

He almost didn’t recognise Fuji when he walked through the door. Age has been most kind to him, for he grew taller, more masculine and more powerful – Fuji never struck him as powerful back in the school days, intelligent and cunning at most. Fuji’s eyes bore no visible emotions when he saw him, and he gave a polite smile before sitting on the sofa in front of Atobe. 

“I presume you want to talk to me about the divorce.” Atobe said, without any pleasantries. He was not usually a rude man, but he was not in the best mood either. Atobe had never taken a liking to Fuji, who smiled and fooled his way through the world. But Fuji only smiled at him more and said, “I am glad you let him go.”

“So you think so as well.” Atobe leaned straighter on the couch. His heart sank at Fuji’s congratulations on the divorce, though he knew he deserved nothing better. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I did love him.”

“I know.” Fuji looked not in the least surprised, “And this may come as a shock to you too, but Tezuka did love you. For a long time.”

Atobe’s eye widened. “What?”

Fuji sighed. “Why on earth do you think he agreed to marry you? Do you think he was the kind of person who could be made to do things that he didn’t want to do? He loved you, Atobe. Since your first match. He was drawn by your passion and prowess, and no doubt you him as well. That was why he never blamed you for his shoulder at that time, because he knew he would do the same thing were he to have your insight. You were one of the same kinds, after all.”

Atobe felt his throat tighten, “Why would he divorce me now? After all these years.”

Fuji sighed. He adjusted his posture, took a sip from his tea and said, “He’s just tired after all. He never wished to give up on his dream, but he couldn’t not blame you for ruining his career. And you were never able to love him fully because you would always feel guilty for what you did all those years ago. Can’t you see? Being married made it difficult for you to love each other, because both of you have your own reservations. It is easier to let go.”

“Do you think he still loves me now?” Atobe asked, his voice hoarse with a glint of hope. He dared not look Fuji in the eyes, for he knew there would be sympathy in them, and he could not stand that. 

“I don’t know, Atobe.” Fuji stood up and made for the doors. “All along, perhaps it is just a fever.”


	7. Chapter 7

Atobe thought back to their honeymoon.

Neither wanted one, for they were as busy as any man could be, but they needed something to show the world that they were a loving sweet couple. They went to an island owned by the Atobe family on a private jet, not bringing even one single servant.

“Are you certain that you can survive without someone to look after you?” Tezuka raised his eyebrows at him when they entered the small shell house on the island, not finding anyone inside.

“I have you. And you me.” Atobe smiled at him, and Tezuka’s lips curved just a little bit upwards. He looked so gentle and amicable back then, wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans, his hair mussed up from the wind when they were flying, and Atobe never wanted to kiss anyone so much.

They spent a peaceful seven days together. Tezuka did his daily training as a sportsman diligently. Atobe woke to the sound of Tezuka showering, no doubt back from his morning run. His mouth went dry, and he was certain that had nothing to do with not drinking for 8 hours. They had eggs and sausages for breakfast on a wooden table. Afterwards, Tezuka would pick up his reading and he held zoom meetings in the study upstairs. When the night came, they said their goodnights and went into separate bedrooms. Sometimes Atobe would hear Tezuka get up in the middle of the night, no doubt going downstairs to get himself a glass of water. Atobe would then lie wide awake in his bed, not able to sleep despite the quiet peacefulness and warm sea breeze that gently whispered against his ears.

They even went to the beach together, once, to watch the sunset. Tezuka wore nothing but a pair of shorts, and Atobe wasn’t quite sure where to look. They had, of course, even seen each other naked before, back in the days when they were still high schoolers, sharing a changing room after a day’s hard training. Atobe dared not look in the direction of the Seigaku boys, for he knew that someone as observant as Fuji Shuusuke would surely notice, and he wasn’t really keen on the idea of Fuji holding a piece of information that he could manipulate any day to blackmail him. But right now, Tezuka was standing right here in front of him. There was no one else around, no rowdy teenagers, no loud-mouthed teammates, no stern-looking coaches. And they were just married. 

Tezuka rolled out a piece of futon and they sat on the beach watching the sun silently retreating into the edge of the endless sea, not speaking a word to each other. When it was almost dark, Tezuka simply said, “Come on, let’s make dinner.” And then they went back to the cottage and nothing ever happened. 

On the last day of their honeymoon a bunch of photographers came on a helicopter to shoot some honeymoon photos for them. Tezuka stood there for them to arrange his limbs for him, not raising any objection. Atobe smiled at the photographers and tipped them generously, acting every bit like the love-struck, happy husband that he was supposed to be. They went back to Tokyo afterwards, and the next day, Tezuka boarded a plane to Germany.

“I wish you all the best in the upcoming tournaments.” Atobe sent him a message just before the flight took off. He couldn’t see him to the airport because he had other businesses to attend to, but he spent a whole hour staring at his phone, not sure how to organise his words. Should he say that he would miss him when he was away? Or perhaps thank him for the perfect honeymoon? Or, if he was just a little braver, say that he would be waiting for him when the tournament season was over? But Atobe just sent one sentence, one plain well wish that just anyone could say to a tennis player. He stared at his phone hesitantly, and only hit the “send” button when his secretary called in to tell him that Mr Yamabuki was waiting for him in the reception room.

The reply came 14 hours later, when Tezuka had landed at Frankfurt International Airport. It was a simple “Thank you”, and Atobe was certain that’s another night’s sleep lost again.

Their days went on like this for another thousand days. They exchanged pleasantries whenever they saw each other, slept in separate bedrooms when staying in the same city, and posed for cameras with their warmest smiles when the press caught them. Atobe never took a single step forward, and he wasn’t even sure if Tezuka wanted him to. They carefully maintained this cold harmony, not stepping into each other’s personal space. 

That is, until Tezuka told him that he wanted this marriage to end.


	8. Chapter 8

Tezuka just finished changing. It was his first match after he announced that he would be returning to the court. The whole world held its breath for his return. Interestingly, the first opponent that he would be facing was no other than Echizen Ryouma. Considering that the last time they played, Echizen suffered a humiliating loss, Tezuka would not be surprised if Echizen came with the resolution to eat him alive. 

The door opened, and someone entered. Tezuka turned and saw a familiar figure standing behind him.

“I wonder what you are doing in the changing room here.” Tezuka stared at his ex-husband. Somehow his heart went pounding a little bit harder, and that had nothing to do with the match that would begin in 15 minutes. 

“I came here to tell you, that I believe in you.” Atobe said gently. He took a careful step forward, and touched Tezuka lightly on the shoulder, “I’ve always had the most faith in you. The injury, the treatment. It’s all in the past. Fight for yourself, Tezuka, even if just this once. There is nothing that holds you back now. No marriage, no commitments, no past entanglements. 

“You can start anew, Tezuka Kunimitsu.” 

Tezuka was lost for words. He stared at Atobe, and something, something that had been dead in his heart for the past seven years suddenly came alive. “Wait for me.” He said simply, and Atobe broke into a smile more brilliant than the sun.

On the court, Tezuka looked like he was the fourteen-year-old all over again. That fierce passionate fire relit in his eyes, and Atobe couldn’t take his eyes off him. He knew that he shouldn’t, Tezuka was off-limits, but he would allow himself just this one moment of weakness. Just this once, he decided, he would see Tezuka relieving himself from his painful past and he would leave him alone for the rest of his life.

He didn’t need to look at the scoreboard. There was nothing that could stop Tezuka when he was like this, and Echizen didn’t stand a chance. The match ended, and Echizen was defeated soundly at 3-1. When the crowd had finally come down from all the wild shouting and cheering for the return of their favourite player, Atobe turned to leave the stands. He had finally redeemed himself. He had finally relieved Tezuka of the pain that he so unfairly suffered through all these years.

Atobe walked in silence towards the exit, where he knew his car would be waiting for him. Just this once, no journalists came flooding him with questions. He knew that the whole world had its eyes on Tezuka, him and only him. The legend had returned, they would say, and he came back more powerful than ever.

Just as he was about to get into the car, a strong arm caught him. Atobe turned his head.

Sweat still dripping off his face and eyes glistening behind the frameless glasses, Tezuka looked as stunningly sexy as ever. Atobe’s mouth fell open and he found himself lost for words. He realised that crowds were gathering over them. It was only a matter of time before the press caught them and started bombarding them with questions. Atobe knew that he should ask Tezuka to let go, but for once, he didn’t do as his mind told him to. He didn’t care. As long as Tezuka was still there, was still standing in front of him, willing to talk to him, breathing the same air as him, he didn’t care. He had this feeling that Tezuka had something important to say, and he needed to hear him say this, whatever that might be.

“I’ve come here to tell you one thing too.” Tezuka said in a low tone, voice slightly hoarse from the match and the running, “That I have faith in you as well.”

“And?” Atobe’s heart started pounding wildly in his chest. He held his breath.

“And,” Tezuka smiled gently, his face suddenly looking younger, more like the Tezuka Atobe first saw when they were both fourteen, “I think we can start anew too.”


End file.
